


Snapshots

by anexistence



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, barchie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-15 21:41:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13622205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anexistence/pseuds/anexistence
Summary: A series of moments between Betty and Archie that showcase just how much they care about one another. And how blind they both are.





	1. 1 2 3 4

Betty was six years old and the boy next door had just gotten a brand new toy, a kid’s car that ran on batteries. From the window, she saw him as he failed to steer the toy car, inevitably ending up on the lawn.

“Mummy,” her blond locks, tied in pigtails, bounced as she ran into the kitchen, “mummy.”

The beautiful woman turned her attention from the meal prep towards her younger daughter, “What did we say about running around the house, Elizabeth?”

“I’m sorry,” Betty spoke softly. “Mummy?”

“Yes, Betty?”

“May I go play with Archie?”

The girl offered her mother the sweetest, most pleading look. No matter how strict Alice Cooper was, she could not deny her daughters request. After all she had cleaned up her toys, and the Andrews’ seemed to have been a lovely, normal family.

“Sure,” her mother nodded, and Betty’s face lit up. “But put on your playing sneakers, not the new ones. And be back in half an hour.”

“Yes, mum. Okay, mum.”

Betty spoke the two sentences, walking away as swiftly as she could without breaking out into a run. In the hallway, she chose the new blue sneakers her parents got her a couple of days ago, instead of the old white ones. She tightened each with the velcro in the front before rushing through the front door. Once outside, Betty assumed she was allowed to run the short distance to Archie’s front lawn.

“Betty,” the red haired boy grinned upon spotting her. “Look!”

“I saw from the window,” she grinned as she approached him. “It looks very nice, Archie.”

The boy leaned back, sinking more into the seat, attempting to imitate the ease with which his dad drove their family car though perhaps failing miserably.

“Do you want to go for a ride?”

The blonde girl glanced towards her home, looking at the window from which she knew her mother could see them. Betty was also perfectly aware that her mother would disapprove. Alice liked to disapprove of a lot of things she found inappropriate, or potentially dangerous, without ever offering an explanation.

“Come on, Betty,” Fred Andrews interrupted her internal dilemma, “I’m sure Alice won’t mind.”

With one last glance towards the treacherous window Betty hopped into the passenger’s seat of the small vehicle, “Go, go, go!”

They drove around in circles, ending up on the lawn only two times. Archie was not particularly good at driving at that age, though he would better his hand-eye coordination once he got older. Nevertheless the two had fun.

“I like your shoes,” Archie told her, as they walked across the grass and towards their bench at the side of Andrews’ house. “I like the blue.”

“Thanks, Arch,” Betty looked down at her brand new shoes to see them covered in dust and some mud.

When she got home her mother first grounded her, by taking away her favourite doll, for ruining the new sneakers. Betty knew that this was not true. A bit of mud and dust can not ruin a pair of shoes. Then Alice Cooper grounded her again, having remembered in her upset state seeing her daughter playing in the toy car.

“I’m sorry,” Betty said, pro forma. It was worth it though.

 

* * *

 

It was Fred’s day to drive Betty, Archie and Polly to school. The Andrews and Cooper family made an elaborate schedule, or Alice Cooper had made one based on the work schedule the four adults provided. On the last weekend of every month, she took the time to carve out a monthly timetable indicating who drove the kids to school and who would pick them up.

Same as every morning when the Andrews had the driving responsibilities, Archie left his bag at the front door, knowing his father would carry it to the car. Archie’s responsibility was getting Polly and Betty. The boy walked over to the Coopers’ front door and, same as every morning no matter who drove, he knocked on the hardwood. Once, twice, then the third time. Exactly five seconds after the third knock the door swung open, same as every morning, to reveal Alice Cooper.

She greeted Archie with a short smile, “Polly! Betty!” her voice carried through the house. “Archie’s here!”

The two of them stood rather awkwardly at the door, same as every morning, and listened to the rush of two pairs of footsteps. When Betty’s signature ponytail appeared, bouncing as she rushed down the stairs with Polly close behind Archie smiled.

“No running in the house, Betty,” her mother reprimanded her, while tightening the ponytail. She caressed her cheek softly before handing the girl her school lunch. Alice repeated the same gesture with her older daughter, before the three of them stepped outside. Same as every morning Archie offered to carry Betty’s bag. Same as every morning Betty protested until they reached the end of the Coopers’ driveway. Same as every morning Archie took the bag with a playful smile, and Betty sighed in defeat, a soft smile gracing her own lips.

“It’s what friends do,” Archie explained as the three walked towards his dad car. Fred was waiting for them in the street, blinkers on, the engine running, while the morning radio show host chattered away from the speakers.

Polly walked a few steps behind them, observing them with a curious glint in her eye. She watched as Archie reached his father’s car and opened the door for Betty, and herself, though she understood that the gesture was meant more for her sister. 

 

* * *

 

 

Archie was now taller than she was, he had been growing faster than she had. It was something Betty could not help noticing as they walked home from school one day. The sun was shining, and the summer was nearby. Despite this, somehow his hand brushed against hers every other step. Afraid she might be invading his space Betty attempted to put an extra inch of distance between them, but the red haired boy simply followed. Soon enough, his left hand brushed against her right hand once again, and Betty could not help the sweatiness of her palms.

“I’m glad it’s Friday,” Archie murmured, as if unfazed by their sudden hand touches.

“Tell me about it, Arch,” Betty, on the other hand, attempted to feign composure. “I’ve had three projects to turn in this week.”

“Oh,” he looked at her strangely, just after another hand brush occurred.

She had to get her pulse under control, “Hm?”

“I only had one,” and another brush, which did not work well with Betty’s attempt to ignore the situation and continue with the conversation as if she were normal. As if his hand continuously touching hers was not giving her the strangest feelings. She saw Polly once, a couple of months ago, with her boyfriend—who had become an ex after Polly decided he was too rude for her—the two of them were holding hands. Handholding, and hand touching for that matter, was somehow reserved for boyfriends.

Archie was not Betty’s boyfriend.

“I’m sure it was a difficult one,” she reassured him, patting his shoulder. The action made her feel at ease for a second, until her arm was in the same position as before. Just like that, not half a second after she had relaxed, Archie’s hand knocked—not brushed, knocked—against hers.

He laughed, “It was not, Betty, but I did my best.”

“Of course you did, Arch,” she reassured him, “you’re so smart.”

“Says you.”

“And what if I do?”

“Well, you’re biased.”

“Isn’t that what friends are for? Being biased, and giving compliments?”

Archie chuckled at her response, “How can I trust you? You have to tell me I’m smart.”

“Hm,” she paused, breath hitching in her throat after yet another hand knock—the hand brushes have escalated—then smiled. “I would never lie to you, Arch.”

He leaned closer to her, nudging her shoulder, before sneaking his hand into her own, and pressing his own sweaty palm against hers. “I know you wouldn’t, Betty.”

  

* * *

 

Archie’s mum left. That was all Betty knew for certain. Her mum told her over dinner. She had told the whole family actually.

“Mary left,” Alice said while passing the salt to her husband, “Polly, don’t play with your food.”

“Where did she go?”

Betty’s innocent question earned her a sad look from her mother, “Away, Betty.”

“Oh,” her big blue eyes were suddenly wide and filled with shock. “But, Archie?”

“You can talk to him tomorrow,” her mother said, “now eat your green beans.”

“Okay.”

Alice Cooper had never seen her daughter finish the dinner as quickly as she did that evening. She made her wait at the table until Polly was done too. With an angry look, Betty left the dining room and headed upstairs, while Polly went off to the living room to watch TV. The younger girl made sure to stomp extra loudly as she walked up the stairs and towards her room. Archie’s blinds were shut, and his room was dark.

 _Hey, mom just told me_ , she texted him, unsure whether to expect a response or not.

Her phone lit up a minute later, **Yeah…**

_Do you want to talk?_

**Not over the phone, come over? just this once?**

_Can’t. Already asked._

**It’s okay**

_No it’s not, I know it’s not._

_Arch._

It was the very first time Betty Cooper did an insane thing for Archie Andrews. Her Gym sneakers were luckily in her room. She put them on after changing into an older pair of leggings and Archie’s hoodie, the one she stole a year ago because he had grown out of it. She stepped outside, through her window, on the small ledge beneath it. The ground seemed much further down, than it had been when she checked the height from the inside. She scraped both of her hands on the pipe, which she used to unceremoniously get to the ground. There was blood all over her hands, and she had landed in her mum’s lily bushes. If she had heard any sort of commotion from the inside, Alice Cooper ignored it completely immersed in cleaning the kitchen.

Like a thief in the night, or a spy on a mission, Betty crawled beneath the kitchen window. The dirt from the ground mixed with the blood on her hands. When she knocked on the Andrews’ door, it was Fred who opened them, a sullen look on his face.  Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, unsure of what to say, Betty stared at the man with eyes wide open for a moment.

“Hi,” Fred sighed, “Archie’s upstairs, taking a shower.”

“Oh, okay,” she moved towards the staircase, but thought better of it. “I’m sorry Mr Andrews,” Betty spoke softly as she turned back to face the older man, “I am.”

Fred smiled softly, “Thank you, Betty.”

Her footsteps echoed through the empty silent house as she climbed to the second floor. True to his father’s words Archie was in the shower. Betty could hear the water running in the bathroom. She waited for him in his room, sprawled across his bed, hands tucked inside the large pocket of the oversized hoodie she wore. When Archie stepped into the room, half dressed and drying his hair with a towel, he failed to notice her in the darkness. She sat up as he looked outside of his window.

Archie let out a high shriek, “Betty!” He turned on the lights.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He quickly pulled a shirt over his head, “What are you doing here?”

“You said you wanted to talk.”

He joined her on his bed, sitting not even an inch from her, “You said your mom wouldn’t let you.”

“I snuck out,” Betty whispered, a playful glint in her eye. She caught his gaze, and for the first time saw how strongly his mother’s departure affected him. “Oh, Archie.”

She swung her arms around him, pulling him in a tight embrace. Archie was still for a moment, breathing in deeply. His arms then, wrapped around her small form, while his steady breathing became more ragged. Soon enough she heard his first sob. Archie’s crying was mostly silent, though every few minutes he would let out a heart-wrenching sob. The two stood like that, at the edge of Archie’s bed, for an unknown amount of time.

“I’m sorry,” the boy muttered reaching for his best friends hand.

“Don’t be,” Betty smiled softly.

His cheeks were red stained, and wet from tears, “Betty,” confusion replaced the sadness on his face as he looked down at her hands, “what did you do?”

Betty, too, looked down at her bloodied and mudded hands, a frown on her face, “I had to climb down that drain next to my window.”

“Betty,” Archie repeated, “we need to wash this, so it does not get infected.” He tugged on her wrist, pulling her with him to the bathroom. The room still smelled like peaches, Archie’s mum’s shampoo.

“Wash your hands,” he all but commanded as he rummaged through the drawers.

Betty obeyed, running her hands under the stream of water and softly washing away the dirt and dry blood. It stung a little, and she flinched.

“Come on,” Archie reached for her hands, slowly patting them with a clean towel. The fresh blood stained the cream coloured cloth and Betty could not help but feel bad. “Okay, now,” he placed the towel next to the sink and motioned for her to put her hands on it, palms up. He sprayed a disinfectant solution, the one his mum bought last week, covering her dry palms in a sheet of watery substance. “You should let it dry. I’ll be right back.”

True to his word, Archie walked back inside the bathroom with two gauzes. He placed each in one of her palms before wrapping each of her hands with a short strip of bandage.

“All fixed,” he smiled weakly, caressing the inside of her wrists.

“Thank you,” her voice was barely a whisper.

Betty Cooper snuck out of her room to take care of her best friend, but somehow Archie Andrews ended up taking care of her. Later on, thanks to her sister Polly, she managed to sneak back in without being caught thus avoiding her mother’s anger, and potential grounding of which the boundaries would be immeasurable.


	2. 5 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a meteor shower. A bit of Valentine's Day.

Tap.

Tap.

_Tap._

The last pebble hit Betty’s window with a sudden sense of urgency, if pebbles could convey such an emotion. The blonde girl bolted up from her bed, hair tied in a loose braid. She stepped towards the window when another pebble hit it. Archie Andrews standing beneath her window at an unknown hour of the night was not a sight Betty would have ever expected to see, but there he was, red hair and all.

“Archie?”

“Hey,” he whispered loudly enough for her to hear him, but softly enough for Alice Cooper’s sleep to remain unperturbed.

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“Come outside,” he bit his lip while looking up at her and Betty felt a sudden rush of embarrassment as she grew aware of the silky, skimpy nightgown she was wearing.  

“Meet me in the front,” she closed the window, drawing the blinds.

In the darkness of her room, Betty searched for her shorts and a t-shirt with the help of her phone’s flashlight. The shorts she found in the drawer of her dresser. She pulled them on, grabbed a random shirt off her chair, and walked downstairs, making sure to leave her slippers behind in the bedroom. Everyone knew the best tiptoeing through the house was done barefoot. In the hallway, she simply grabbed the nearest pair of sneakers, the blue ones, before stepping outside. Archie stood before her, gym shorts and a white shirt, as boyish and handsome as ever.

“Hi,” Archie smiled at her dishevelled, half-asleep form.

Betty took a moment to rub away the sleepiness in her eyes, “Explain.” Her voice was still slightly hoarse.

“There’s supposed to be a meteor shower in about half an hour,” he snuck his arm around her shoulder and softly guided her down the street, “I figured we could go watch.”

“Oh,” she sighed, leaning into his body in search of warmth. The summer had been warm, but the nights still got chilly.

“I also stole a pack of beer from the fridge,” he looked down at his best friend, waiting for her reaction.

Betty smiled and rolled her eyes, “You just had to.”

“Thought it would be a bit of fun.”

“Is this about your,” she paused searching for a way to ask the question gently. In the end, she thought, being direct was the best approach. “About your mum?”

Betty felt the moment Archie stiffened a bit next to her; how could she not with the two of them pressed so close to each other. He relaxed quickly, though, and sighed once.

“I don’t know,” the boy hesitated, giving himself a moment to think about his own motives. “Not entirely, I think.”

“Okay,” her small hand reached for his larger one, the one that he swung so carelessly around her shoulders. “I won’t judge, you know?”

“I do, I know,” Archie’s fingers wrapped around Betty’s hand, as he felt her body go into shock, same as every time he touched her in that strange, testing-the-boundaries, non-platonic way. “I just want to relax, not think about things.”

“We can do that,” Betty replied, her thumb tracing small circles on the inside of Archie’s palm. “Where are we going?”

Archie steered them to the left in that moment, smiling softly. “It’s a surprise.”

He walked them to the nearby park, the one they used to go to when they were kids. The slides, and the swing-sets all seemed miniature compared to their childhood playtimes. The park was located on the edge of the small hill that descended a bit, making the small span of grass at the end of it perfect for stargazing. Archie plopped himself down on the ground, sitting on the warm grass. Betty joined him, regretting having grabbed her pale pink shorts, and knowing there would be green stains on them once they left.

“We’re early,” for the first time since Betty had stepped outside Archie was not whispering, “I’d say we have five more minutes to waste.”

“We could still look up at the stars,” the girl replied, but reached for a can of beer from the six-pack sitting between Archie’s legs. “Or we could share a drink.”

“Betty Cooper,” the red haired boy looked at his best friend, a wide grin on his face, “you always surprise me.”

“When will you learn, Archie Andrews?”

The can let out an unfamiliar fizzy sound as Betty opened it. Archie watched her as she brought it up to her lips, and instead of taking a drink hesitated.

“Do you want me to go first?”

Betty looked away from the beer can at Archie’s outstretched hand, “It doesn’t smell nice.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” he chuckled, “let me go first, come on. If I die, don’t drink.”

The girl laughed, nearly handing him the can. She changed her mind last minute, an unlikely decision on her part. “No, I’m going to go first.”

“Very well,” an amused smirk graced Archie’s lips as he watched Betty bring the can closer to her face, stopping—once again, if only for a moment—half an inch from her lips. His small laugh was all it took for the girl sitting next to him to bring the cold aluminium up to her soft lips. With her eyes tightly shut Betty Cooper took her first gulp of an all American beer, as her best friend watched on with an amused look on his face. She did not like it, she may have even hated it, but she took a second one because Archie’s soft chuckling grew into laughter and Betty wanted to prove a point to him, whatever the point was. Perhaps she just wanted to come out victorious in this experience they had decided to share.  

She grimaced, holding the can at an arm’s length, “Awful.”

“Your face suggests that much,” Archie grabbed the can from her hands, and—with the bravery of any other barely teenage boy—took three gulps. He paused afterwards, trying his best not to mimic Betty’s disgusted reaction. Of course, he failed miserably, “Okay, no. This is awful.”

“Oh, look,” Betty exclaimed, blue eyes glued to the night sky.

“A shooting star?”

“A meteor.”

The red haired boy rolled his eyes at that, swinging his arm around the blonde’s shoulders for the second time that night, and pulling her closer to him before lying on the ground completely, back flat against the soft grass. Betty’s body went rigid for a split second, and Archie felt it, before she allowed herself to slowly melt into his side.

“What are you wishing for, Arch?” her voice was soft, eyes looking up at the stars as Archie studied her face.

“Not sure, yet,” he muttered, running his fingers across her collarbone. “Maybe nothing.”

The blonde chuckled, “A waste of shooting stars, really.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard? They’re meteors, Betty.”

“Shut up,” was the last thing she told him before the shower really started.

They lied there, beneath the clear night sky, a boy and a girl on the cusp of an adventure, unsure of what was really happening. If either of them had wished for the other upon one of the shooting stars, it would remain a secret for a long time after that night had passed.

The beer was left untouched.

 

* * *

 

 

Betty had never gotten a Valentine’s Day gift.

Not a card, no flowers, certainly not a gift. Nothing save for the drawings her sister made her for the day. In return, Betty would write her a short story about the two of them and their adventures, none of which had been real, of course, but rather a result of her beautiful, childish imagination.

That year though, Archie thought, something ought to happen. The boy was yet to grow into a song-writing romantic, but if he had learned a few things from the cheesy movies his mother adored, all beautiful girls deserved a gift on that day. Betty was, in his eyes, very beautiful, if not the most beautiful girl in the whole town. She had told him he could not marry her, not yet, but she never said he could not surprise her on occasion, even if he knew that Betty was not big on surprises. She preferred things planned out and orderly. She liked to prepare for situations to come, even at a very young age. Thus, young Archie set out on a quest. A quest to find a perfect gift that his small budget of five dollars allowed.

Buying her a box of chocolates—no matter how exquisite—was too obvious and stereotypical, his father told him once the man got the idea of what his son had been up to. Fred Andrews suggested a more creative solution, something more personal, though—for the sake of it still being an adventure—he did not explicitly tell his son what he had been thinking of. The boy solved the riddle a week after he had set out to find a perfect gift, and only a day before Valentine’s.

In a small stationery store, near the mayor’s office, Archie found his perfect gift: a small notebook with blue covers, and an intricate pattern that reminded him instantly of Betty.

“That’s it?” Fred Andrews accompanied his son to the store.

The boy nodded, “Yes.”

“Alright, let’s go pay for it then.”

At the register, Archie emptied all of his pockets, the sound of coins colliding with one another and the surface echoing through the empty store. The woman at the register, whom he heard his dad address as Meg, collected every single coin leaving Archie a figuratively bankrupt little boy. At home, he filled the pages of the notebook with the photos of the two of them. Fred, once again, helped with this task, having gone and developed extra photos of the two. It turned out a bit messy in the end; Archie was never quite great with glue, or creative do-it-yourself art assignments. His fingers were sticky and there was some glue left on his shirt, but the photos had all found their place inside the notebook, with plenty of blank pages for the adventures to come. He went to bed that night content and proud of himself, ignoring the excitement that coursed through his entire nine-year-old body.

Valentine’s Day fell on a Sunday that year, and Archie was at the Coopers’ front door early in the morning, though not early enough to interrupt their breakfast. He knew well enough that Betty’s mother would not appreciate him imposing on their family time.

He knocked once, twice, and the third time, then counted to five until Alice Cooper opened the door. The woman smiled knowingly at the boy, even if she disapproved slightly. No harm would be done if a boy gave a Valentine’s gift to her daughter, not at such a young age.

“Betty,” she faced the dining room, which meant Archie had barely missed interrupting their brunch. “Archie’s here.”

Betty’s hair was somehow even more blonde in the morning sun than it had been the day before, her eyes a wide and a vibrant blue as she stared at her best friend in confusion.

“Hi,” she whispered stepping outside as Alice retreated to the kitchen. Archie heard her tell Polly to finish her eggs before Betty closed the front door. “Polly is refusing to eat, it’s a bit chaotic inside,” she shrugged apologetically.

“That’s fine,” Archie nodded both hands behind his back.

“So?”

“What?”

“What’s going on?”

“Oh,” the boy paused, “nothing.”

Betty looked at him, eyebrows arched, “But is everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need something? Do you need help with school, you know I can help you,” she rambled, “I just have to tell my mum and we can go work on it.”

“No, no,” Archie bit his lip, frowning slightly. Betty’s mum would have told him not to do that, she would have warned him how it would cause wrinkles later on in his life. She often warned Betty about it. “It’s just…”

The two stared at each other for about ten seconds. For the first time in her life Betty was left perplexed—thought at that age she would not have understood the word—by her friend’s behaviour.

“Here,” the boy offered her a messily wrapped gift, but kept the other hand hidden behind his back, “happy Valentine’s?”

“Oh, Archie,” Betty’s face lit up, “you didn’t have to… I didn’t get you anything.” She frowned slightly.

“Just… wanted to?”

The girl looked down at the gift, then back at her friend. With narrowed eyes she stepped closer to him, “What’s behind your back?”

Archie rolled his eyes before handing her a bouquet of colourful tulips, “I hope you’re not allergic or anything.”

Betty chuckled, “I’m not… I hope?”

“Good,” the boy replied. “Because I stole them from mayor McCoy’s garden.”

At that, Betty let out a loud laugh.

Later on, through the years to come, the two of them filled out the notebook with various snapshots of their shared moments. When she ran out empty pages, Archie made sure to buy her a new one, though no occasion called for a gift.

“It’s what friends do, isn’t it?” He would say, though unsure if it truly was what simple friends would do for one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us rejoice in some more Barchie moments that my brain has decided to conjure up. Hope you enjoy it, and that it makes you smile in this Barchie drought we've been experiencing ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, first Riverdale fic because I love love love childhood friends --> romance and Barchie stole my heart and soul. It will mostly feature scenes of the two, as I write them. 
> 
> Remember: not dating, but endgame ;)


End file.
